


All I Think About (Is You)

by guineapiggie



Series: Happy Endings (are just stories that haven't finished yet) [5]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Divorce, F/M, Post-Break Up, break-up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-27 03:04:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9949319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guineapiggie/pseuds/guineapiggie
Summary: Cassian laughs. “Bodhi, I’m about to make a promise in the face of God, that’s basically swearing on the bible... I think that’s meaning it, right?”“I don’t even know if you believe in God, Cassian,” Bodhi says, in a voice so quiet it’s barely audible over the sound of the waves. “So swear to me. Because I’ve known Jyn forever, and I love her more than anyone else in the world, and if you do this and you don’t mean it –“





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [randomdreamer01](https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomdreamer01/gifts).



> Have four completely seperate scenes that have literally no connection with each other, but since this (according to the plan at least) is the penultimate chapter, I wanted this all in, so - yeah, sorry. (No but seriously, the only common factor is Bodhi, and then there's the scene to continue the scene I left off in the last installment and Jesus. I have no excuse. I'm just really sorry.)
> 
> @ **randomdreamer01** You called _your_ last fic shitty - for reasons I do not understand - so have this mess. THIS is shitty, my friend.

**[first meeting: eight months ago]**

To say Kay took the news well would be... well, it would be a lie. But compared to Bodhi, it’s nothing at all. Kay’s disgruntled texts, ending in _very well, on your head be it, Cassian…_

Those he doesn’t linger on. But Bodhi calls him, just minutes after Jyn’s texted him with everything – what they’re planning to do, where they’re planning to do it, that they want him to be there – and it starts with:

“Get out of her earshot, I need to talk to you.”

“Okay,” he says, shrugging towards Jyn, mutters _be right back,_ gets up from his table at the restaurant and makes his way towards the beach. “Alright. She can’t hear us, and this is weird, Bodhi.”

Bodhi on the other end of the line takes a deep breath, then asks in a voice that somehow sounds a lot sharper than usual:

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

“I... think so?” he replies slowly, frowning a little.

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound very convincing,” Bodhi says. “Okay, listen up. I don’t care how much you think you know her, you have no idea what this means to her. Marriage. Everyone she loved as a child left her behind, and she’s scared as all hell that the people she loves are going to do that to her again. So I need you to promise me you mean it.”

Cassian laughs. “Bodhi, I’m about to make a promise in the face of God, that’s basically swearing on the bible... I think that’s meaning it, right?”

“I don’t even know if you believe in God, Cassian,” Bodhi says, in a voice so quiet it’s barely audible over the sound of the waves. “So swear to me. Because I’ve known Jyn forever, and I love her more than anyone else in the world, and if you do this and you don’t mean it –“

Cassian stares out at the sun setting over the sea and sighs. “Okay. Whatever that oath is worth over the phone, I promise you...” His eyes find Jyn across the street, still waiting on her food, blinking into the sunlight with a faint smile on her lips and pulling her horrible jacket tighter around her, and his voice catches. There is something swelling in his chest, something warm and peaceful and so big he thinks his ribs must break and –

He’d do anything for her. Anything at all.

“I swear to you,” he resumes in a quiet tone, “I swear to you on my mother’s grave, I mean this, and I’m going to mean every last syllable of that vow.”

For a moment, there is no sound but the waves and the screeching of the gulls, then –

“... Thank you.”

 _Because I’ve known Jyn forever, and I love her more than anyone else in the world..._ Cassian grimaces when another thought springs to his mind.

“I’m sorry, Bodhi, I should’ve called you first.”

“What?”

“I should’ve called you. Asked... asked for your blessing, I suppose.”

“What?” Bodhi says again, in a blank voice. “You ask... the father of the bride, right?”

“Well, she doesn’t have that,” he says softly, tracing the gold gleam on the horizon with his eyes. “You’re the closest thing to family she has, so it should’ve been you.” He hesitates for a moment, then asks quietly: “Do we get it?”

“Get what?”

“Are you okay with it? With us, getting married?”

“Um... yeah?” Bodhi sounds like he doesn’t quite believe he’s having that conversation. “I’m still in shock, I think, but yeah. I guess I am.”

“Good,” he mutters. “Because I’d hate for her to have to walk down the aisle alone. I mean, she would, she could, but –“

“You want _me_ to do that?” Bodhi’s voice is faint. “Cassian, that... that should’ve been her father, you’re asking me to replace –“

“You’re not replacing anybody. I just... I just think it would be nice to have family with us, and I can’t have that but she can, so... just think on it. I think it would mean a lot to her.”

“Okay, I’ll...” His voice falters just a little. “I’ll think about it. I’ll see you both on Friday.”

“Yeah. See you there.”

Bodhi hangs up and Cassian pockets his phone, staring at the sand to his feet with a frown. Somehow, he feels a little like he just got married.

A little like there’s no more meaningful promise he could still make.

(It will be an incessant source of guilt in the years to come, that vow he made – on par, in fact, with his wedding vows. And for breaking those, he can at least ask absolution in confession, which he actually tries once. But there is nothing to be done about the promise he made to Bodhi, nothing at all, except to lie awake night after night after night wondering how he could ever break it.)

 

* * *

  

 _And all these days I spend away,_  
_I’ll make up for this I swear_  
_I need your love to hold me up_  
_when it’s all too much to bear_

* * *

  

**[married: four months]**

 

“It’s his birthday. You’re his friend. He wants you there, Cassian.”

He sighs. “The lights are red.”

She hits the brakes far too abruptly to not be on purpose. Her eyes flash at him. “One night. You work all the fucking time, and you can’t have _one_ night off?”

“I spent this morning trying to bribe a crying nine year-old with cookies. That boy is _nine,_ Jyn. Do you want me to tell him I let his mother’s killer cut another woman’s throat because I had to go to a birthday party?”

She shakes her head. “You’re not the only cop on the case. You were home for about three hours a night all week. You can have one night, Cassian.”

“No,” he replies softly, “if something happens and I wasn’t – I couldn’t look at myself. It’s green.”

She huffs angrily, hits the gas too hard, nearly crashes into the car in front of them. Cassian’s hand closes around the door handle.

“ _Kay_ is coming,” she says in an accusing tone, like that was the argument to end all arguments. “Everyone is."

The car in front of them slows down as they near a roundabout. Jyn keeps going, then slams the brakes with a curse when her eyes finally return to the road ahead.

Cassian lets his head drop against the headrest of the seat. Something tells him he’s probably going to die in this car one day.

“Look, I’ll come in and congratulate him. And I’ll drive you home,” he mutters, staring out the window. “I have to get this case done, Jyn, then –“

She scoffs. “Yeah, then what? Then it’ll be the next one, and the next, and the next, same as ever. You’re working yourself to the bone, and I don’t know what kind of redemption you’re looking for, but you won’t find it. Not if you work yourself to death.”

“You’re speeding,” he says gently. “I’ll take a day off when this shit is through. I’m not debating that I need rest.”

“But you can’t promise me it won’t be exactly the same after that, can you?” she asks quietly, not slowing down very much.

“No, but I’ll –“

A car switches to their lane in front of them, dangerously close –

“ _Jesus Christ, eyes on the road!”_ he barks, and Jyn slams the brakes for the third time in as many miles.

“If you want to kill me, you could have the decency to shoot me!” he says, heart beating too fast, and to his surprise, she laughs.

“Coming from you, seriously?”

“What’s that supposed to mean? I can drive us through the city _without_ provoking a crash every two blocks,” he bites back, his fingers still clutching the door handle very firmly.

“I’m a perfectly good driver,” she replies, “it’s you that’s the problem. You’re a terrible passenger.”

“It’s not my fault you need to be reminded of basic rules like _stop at a red light._ ”

“Cassian,” she says, suddenly smiling, “you _proposed to me on a highway._ You could’ve got us killed.”

He shakes his head and tries with a small grin of his own. “I was trying to minimise the danger of you strangling me to death, actually.”

She throws him a sideward glance, then the smile fades from her lips. “You’re really not aware of what you did, right?”

“What I did?”

Her eyes narrow just a little. “I swear my heart stopped. I was seriously in shock or something, if there’d been more people on the road I think I actually would’ve killed us, Cassian.”

“If the idea of marrying me scared you so much, why did you say yes?” he asks, joking, but that doesn’t do him any good. She’s looking seriously annoyed now.

“I honestly don’t see how I ever gave you the impression that this doesn’t mean as much to me as it does to you.” She returns her eyes on the road – which, to be fair, is just what he asked of her, but now it feels like a very bad thing. Her voice has gone very quiet.

“Why does it always sound like I married you to do you a favour, or just for the hell of it? It’s not like I got drunk and woke up with a ring on my finger in Vegas.”

He grimaces. How did he get into _this_ argument all of a sudden?

“I’m not trying to – all I mean is, you know, you’re not exactly the marrying type.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she snaps.

 _Jesus._ He can’t get anything right today. “It’s supposed to mean you didn’t think you were ever going to get married to anyone, did you?”

She throws him a look, her green eyes dark with anger. And hurt. What the hell did he _say?_

“Did _you_ , Cassian? Did you ever think you were going to end up married?”

Well, she has him there.

“You changed my mind,” she says in a quiet, hard voice. “That should tell you it means something to me. So stop insinuating it doesn’t.”

 _You have no idea what this means to her,_ he hears Bodhi’s voice through the phone, and for the first time, he thinks he might have been right.

He’s known her for thirteen months. Sometimes, it feels like she’s been there all his life, but sometimes, he realises it has been little more than a year.

_So little time._

They have the rest of their lives, and yet –

Only thirteen months, he thinks, and it weighs heavy on his chest.

_._

On the way to Kay’s apartment, neither one of them speaks a word. Cassian wrecks his brain for something to break the tense silence, but nothing comes to mind and neither of them seems to deem it appropriate to turn on the radio, so it’s just the motor and their stoic refusal to be the first to say something.

When she stops in front of the block of apartments, Cassian jumps out as soon as the car comes to a stop despite the fact that Kay is already waiting by the side of the road.

His friend not only fails to notice both their foul mood, but glances at Jyn and says, to make it all even worse:

“I’m not getting in if Road Rage is driving.”

Cassian feels like he could hit him. He takes the small gift-wrapped box his friend is holding and puts it into the trunk, throwing him a dark glare. “ _Kay_.”

“Oh, come on, I’ve called her worse. So have you,” Kay says in a light tone, and Cassian feels actual anger rising in his chest. What did he do to the rest of the world today?

(Kay is right, though, which is the worst part of it. _Jesus,_ yes, he has called her worse – never in public, but he _has._ And he has thought worse things, _awful_ things, about that wonderful woman he could never begin to deserve –)

“Watch it,” he growls, but Kay fails to take a hint.

“You _have_.”

“I know I’m an asshole, you don’t have to remind me,” Cassian snaps, his anger already turning into utter disgust.

She’s right. What right does he have to make assumptions about how important he is to her? He can’t see inside her head. ( ~~He’s known her for thirteen months.~~ )

“And that’s still my wife you’re talking about, got it?” he adds in a quiet, biting tone, and is thankfully spared from whatever response Kay is about to give when Jyn rolls down the window and says flatly:

“How about you both shut up and you get your ungrateful arse in the car, James?”

“Tell her to stop calling me _James_ ,” Kay says petulantly, but Cassian just sighs and shoves him towards the car.

“It’s your _name_. And I can’t just _tell_ her to do things. Get in.”

“You don’t seem to have much trouble telling _me_ what to do,” Kay mutters as he folds his absurdly long limbs onto the back seat.

Cassian ignores him.

Jyn throws him a slightly accusing sideward glance as she backs out of the driveway, and he finds himself saying in a very apologetic tone:

“He means well.”

“Oh, does he,” she mutters, the same moment a disgruntled “I wouldn’t say that” comes from the back seat.

“Can’t you two just suck it up and get along?” Cassian snaps and adds towards his wife: “I get along with Bodhi, too.”

Jyn scoffs. “ _Everyone_ gets along with Bodhi, Cassian. That’s not an accomplishment.”

He sighs, his frustration already giving way to guilt. “Jyn. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said –“ he begins reluctantly, but she cuts him off.

“I’m not angry that you said it, I’m angry that you think that way about me.”

“Oh for God’s sake,” Kay says in an exasperated tone, “is it too late for me to walk the rest of the way?”

Neither one of them reacts to that even in the slightest.

Cassian wishes he could find a way to put into words that it’s not an insult to her if he thinks she doesn’t love him the way he loves her. It’s just that she’s a strong, clever, radiant person; she’s tender and honest and loyal – she can be difficult, sure, she has her flaws, but she is an inherently good, admirable person.

It’s easy to love someone like her. It’s not easy to love someone like him, not easy at all, and he thinks the fact that she does already makes her special.

(If he loves her more than she loves him, it’s not a mark of her bad character, it’s a mark of his. If he loves her more than she loves him, it’s not an accomplishment, it’s just easier for him than it is for her.)

He wishes he could do better by her, that he could be easier to be around, more patient, better at putting his thoughts and feelings into words. He wishes he could be the kind of person she deserves, but he doesn’t know how. All he can promise her, promise himself, is that he’ll keep trying to figure it out, that he’ll keep trying to make up for all his shortcomings –

He is still trying to think of an answer when she parks the car in front of her old building and gets out without so much as another word.

As promised, he follows her and Kay up to the apartment to say hi to everyone and congratulate Bodhi and mutter some empty phrases about how he’d _love to stay but..._

He catches one of Chirrut’s strange knowing glances across the room, and casts his eyes down. That man’s milky white eyes have a way of staring into his soul that makes him feel all bare and vulnerable.

When she presses the keys into his hand, he closes his fingers around hers for a moment and tries for a smile that doesn’t turn out too good.

“Have fun. Call me when you want to go home.”

She sighs, still eyeing him in a way that tells him he’s a very long way from forgiven, then nods. “Yeah.” She presses his hand and adds: “You go get that guy, and then you can come and drink a glass with us.” Her smile doesn’t look any less forced than the one on his lips feel like, but her words sound a little more gentle.

“Yes. I’ll do my best,” he mutters, shaking his head, then begrudgingly lets go of her fingers, throws Bodhi another meaningless apologetic smile and sneaks out of the apartment.

* * *

 

 _If this keeps me away much longer,_  
_I don’t know what I will do_  
_You’ve got to understand it’s a hard life_  
_that I’m going through_  
 

* * *

 

**[divorced: seventy months]**

 

“Come home, Jyn.”

A long pause, then – “Kay said you were sober.”

His mind races. _Kay said –_ She doesn’t talk to Kay.... but Kay said he called Bodhi.

Only in this moment, he grasps what that means – Kay _calls_ Bodhi. Probably on a regular basis. To update Bodhi on how he is doing? To learn how Jyn is doing in return?

Kay calls Bodhi. Kay told Bodhi about the drinking. Kay _knew_ about the drinking. Kay told Bodhi he was sober – so Kay knows he spent two weeks in rehab a month ago, too. _Great._

Also, she thinks he’s drunk. She thinks he couldn’t admit to missing her, to wanting her back; couldn’t admit to needing her to feel like a functioning person unless he was drunk.

Jyn thinks he’s a coward.

(She knows him too well. He was a coward – he still is. Just a desperate one.)

He closes his eyes, barely contains the urge to rest his head on the desk. Her voice and the hurt in it tear at the jagged edges of the same old wound. It doesn’t heal, doesn’t shrink.

(Because time _doesn’t_ heal every wound. Because some losses just leave cuts that rip back open when you least expect it, and he of all people should have known that from the start.)

“I am. I am sober.”

Another pause, shaky breathing that makes his heart clench. When she goes on, her voice is quiet and has edges in it that sound all wrong.

“That’s all I ever wanted to hear, you fucking idiot, that’s all I was waiting for!” Her voice is barely more than a whisper now, and shaking in earnest. “I _waited_ , Cassian. Six _seconds_ after I slammed our front door, six minutes, six hours, six days, six weeks, damn it, six _months_... but six _years_ \- Who do you think you are?”

Her voice grows a little firmer, but somehow manages to sound no less broken. “How can you ask me – _six_ _years_ – you’re such a fucking asshole. Six years, it takes you _six_ _years_ to decide you want to put up a fight? Asshole.”

He says nothing, waits. He knows her words are intended to cut, but they don’t hurt – not more than hearing her voice always hurts, anyway – because someone who gets _this_ angry still cares, and that’s all he needs to know.

She still cares. She hasn’t moved on any more than he has, and that’s enough.

Her forgiveness is something he can fight for, something he can strive to earn, as long as she still cares.

“Why the hell _now?”_ she asks after a moment.

“Because I could’ve died today,” he replies softly, “and I didn’t even know if they’d call you if I had. I wasn’t even sure if you’d –“ He sighs, stops himself, then says: “You sound tired.”

“Yeah, because it’s the middle of the night and you fucking woke me up,” she replies flatly.

“Where are you?”

“England.”

He sighs and traces invisible patterns on the table top. “I’m sorry I woke you. I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t. I didn’t tell you.”

“Of course you didn’t,” he mutters, then adds: “Well, I’ll... let you sleep. Have fun in Europe.”

“Cassian, wait, what the hell am I supposed to make of –“

“I want you to come home.”

“Cassian –“

“That’s all I need you to know.”

“I _can’t,_ ” she whispers, in a voice that shakes at all the wrong places, and he can’t tell if she believes that herself.

“We were young and we fucked it up, Jyn,” he replies, “but things change. And I just want you to know that I’m not going to stop waiting and I’ll be here if you ever change your mind.”

“ _Cassian –“_ Her voice is full of so many broken things, but he can’t help a little smile at how much _longing_ she can fit into these two syllables.

She still cares. Small victories.

“Goodnight, Jyn. Sleep well.”

He hangs up before she can say another word, and when he looks up he finds Dameron standing in the doorway, his silhouette dark against the bright light from the corridor.

“You said to tell you if forensics find anything in the cars,” he says in a defensive voice and Cassian manages something like a very tired grin that falls from his lips in the blink of an eye.

“Absolutely. Is that the report?” He motions towards the stack of paper in Kes’s hands.

“Yes, I – here,” he mutters and sets them down on the edge of the desk, turns to leave, then, brows furrowed in worry and slight scepticism –

“Was that your – was that _her_?”

He sighs. “Yes. I wouldn’t mind if that stayed between the two of us, if you’d be so kind.”

There’s a threat in that sentence, but Dameron ignores it, or hasn’t heard.

“You still love her?” he says and it’s not really a question. “After all this time?”

There’s that strange lopsided smile pulling at Cassian’s lips, but doesn’t feel as dreadful as it usually does. “I don’t imagine it’ll ever stop. I don’t think I’d want it to.” He waves the stack of paper and adds, by ways of _get out,_ “Thank you, Dameron.”

Kes hovers in front of the desk for a moment longer, hesitant like he wants to say something else, then nods and leaves.

“Oh, Dameron –“

“Yes?”

Cassian gets to his feet and pats his pockets in search of his car keys, then remembers his car just went up in smoke. “I’m going to take these home and try to get a little sleep. If anything comes up, on the case or the cars, I want you to call me immediately.”

“Okay.”

“ _Immediately_ , Dameron.”

Kes grins. “Yes. Got it. See you.”

This time around, faking a smile is a little easier. “See you.”

 

* * *

 

 _And when the night falls in around me_  
_and I don’t think I’ll make it through_  
_I’ll use your light to guide the way_  
_‘cause all I think about is you_

* * *

 

**[divorced: seventy months]**

 

“I hate it.”

“Cassian, I don’t see the problem,” Kay says with a sigh and closes the door. “It’s a perfectly good car.”

“I hate it,” he insists quietly. “It smells weird.”

“It smells like a new car. Your old one smelled... odd. Old.”

Cassian disagrees. His old car smelled of coffee and Kay’s goddamned Earl Grey and a little of the sand he could never really get out of the corners and seams after that trip (not that he really ever bothered to try), and there had been a faint, faint trace of perfume that was probably more memory than actually in the air.

He misses that car, and the pleasure of slapping cuffs on the bastard who blew it up hasn’t made up for the loss.

(It’s not really the car he misses.)

Kay opens the glove compartment and frowns a little when he finds it empty. “Learning from your mistakes, I see?”

Cassian sighs. The truth is he doesn’t consider this horrible flashy new car worthy of carrying the envelope. He doesn’t trust it to keep it safe the way he did his old Ford.

The truth is, the envelope is sitting on the coffee machine in his kitchen ever since he called her three days ago; and he stares at it in the morning while he drinks his coffee.

“Sure,” he mutters, and stares at the road signs like he doesn’t remember the way to work.

“Well, at least this one has a hands-free kit,” Kay says drily and fiddles with the dials of the radio. “So maybe I won’t have to die in a freak accident after all.”

“Freak accident?” Cassian makes the mistake of inquiring.

“ _This is a_ _really important phone call, no I can drive just fine with one hand, oh, where in the world did all these cars come from!?”_ Kay’s impression of him is completely and utterly unconvincing.

Cassian rolls his eyes. “I don’t even know how that thing works.”

Kay finds a radio station to his liking – unsurprisingly, it’s classical music – leans back in his seat and listens for a while. They get stuck in a traffic jam, but Kay doesn’t look fazed.

“You called her, didn’t you?” His voice sounds mostly tired, nothing but a trace of concern left. Cassian realises for the thousandth time how terribly thin he has worn his best friend over the years.

“Isn’t that what you told me to do?”

Kay raises a brow. “I told you to do _something_. I didn’t tell you what. So that’s a yes. How did that go?”

He would really prefer not to talk about it. “How do you think?”

“Well, I don’t know what you said.”

“And I’m not going to repeat it to you,” Cassian replies irritably.

“On a scale of one to ten, how much of a fool did you make of yourself?” Kay sounds uncharacteristically calm about the subject, and even mildly amused for some reason.

“Seven,” Cassian replies flatly, keeping his eyes fixed on the cars ahead. “You’re very chill about the fact that I called her.“

“Well, I knew you would if I told you what I told you, so it didn’t come as too big a surprise.”

Cassian shakes his head impatiently. “No, I don’t understand... why did you change your mind all of a sudden?”

Kay sighs deeply and turns down the radio a little. “Because it’s getting absurd, frankly.”

“What is?”

“You and her. I’m resigning myself to the inevitable, Cassian. I failed to stop it when it started and now we must all bear the consequences.” He is quiet for a while, then when he seems to find his words do not have the desired impact:

“You know, for the past four years every colleague I could reach across the states e-mails me pictures of every female OD or murder victim that fits _green eyes, mid- to late twenties, 5’3’’._ Every one in our county goes over my table. Whenever you’re more than fifteen minutes late for work, Dameron checks road accidents, drunks who’ve drowned in the river, reports of people jumping off bridges. Did you know that?”

Cassian swallows and shakes his head. Figures, though. Those caring idiots.

“But why now, Kay?”

There’s a wry, sardonic smile pulling at his friend’s lips. “Came to me in a dream,” he says with no small does of sarcasm, then goes on in a much more serious tone:

“I dreamt they called me in the middle of the night because she was dead. And you were sitting in the interrogation room at the wrong side of the table looking like you needed someone to teach you how to breathe. You were their only serious suspect – nobody wanted to be the one to say it, Dameron kept repeating “but we _know_ him” and Draven looked like he’d bitten into a lemon... but you were a bloody perfect fit, textbook. Jealous lonely lovesick drinking ex-husband. Everyone’s been waiting for you to explode ever since you two started your shouting matches at the precinct, so they believed it. And when I woke up I realised that wasn’t a too unlikely scenario, knowing your darling wife-“

“Ex-wife,” he corrects reflexively.

“Whatever. I don’t want things to end like that, and again, with _her_ penchant for getting into trouble, they very well could.”

Cassian stares out of the windshield for a while, then asks softly after another moment of hesitation: “Did I do it? In your dream?”

Kay’s sharp eyes pierce him. “Do you think you could?”

His voice is clean, all accent and sharp edges, no judgement. Only Kay could ever react to such a deranged question in this way.

Cassian laughs, and it sounds desperate even to him. “Hell, no. I swear I would chew off my arm before I touched a hair on her head... but then I’ve seen about a hundred husbands who said the same, and did it anyway.”

Kay stares out of the window and ponders that for a while. “Well, no. You didn’t do it,” he says then. “You know how I knew?”

“How?”

“Because if you had, they’d have found you right next to her,” Kay says, still in that flat voice.

Cassian throws him a look. “Murder-suicide? Seriously?”

“Just about dramatic enough for the two of you,” he replies with a shrug and nothing but a glimpse of sarcasm in his tone.

“You’re so uplifting today,” Cassian mutters, shaking his head, and tries to smile like that whole conversation was just another one of Kay’s dark jokes. It doesn’t work too well.

He feels a little sick.

“I’m not here to amuse you, Cassian, I’m trying to get your life together for you.”

“Thank you,” Cassian says darkly. “I’m thirty-three, I can sort my life out on my own just fine.”

His friend’s pale blue eyes throw him a look of deepest disdain. “After the last six years, I hope for you that’s supposed to be a joke. Your life is a bloody train wreck.”

“Just my love life,” Cassian replies. “The rest is perfectly in order.”

Kay scoffs. “The rest was collateral damage.”

“I didn’t lose my job, did I?” Cassian bites back and tries not to think about how pathetic it is that the only things that seem to have any importance in his life these days are his failed marriage and his job.

“Not for lack of trying. You –“

A loud noise makes them both flinch and Cassian takes far too long to realise he’s listening to a ringtone at deafening volume. Kay smirks.

“Well, time to test that kit, then, I suppose.”

Cassian glances at the caller ID and immediately realises to what extent that is a terrible idea. “Kay, no, let me –“

He’s already somehow found the right button to accept the call.

Cassian grimaces into the silence. “Hello Bodhi.”

“Seriously?” comes through the speakers, too loudly. Kay dials down the volume, looking mildly amused for some reason.

“Seriously what?”

“ _Hello Bodhi?_ ” That voice that usually sounds gentle and shy has a strength in it that Cassian never expected Bodhi could muster. “I was hoping you’d have something better to say for yourself.”

“I have a lot of things to be sorry for, Bodhi,” he says in a strained voice, “but that call I’m not sorry about.”

“Well, you bloody well should be. What the fuck were you thinking? If you’d at least been drunk I could’ve understood, but _Jesus._ What the _hell’s_ got into you?”

“Hello Cassian. I’m glad you’re alive. How good to hear from you,” Cassian mutters, and Kay snorts.

“Fuck you, Andor,” Bodhi says. “You know how long it took her to get to where she was before you called her?”

“Yes, Bodhi,” he replies patiently. “I know _exactly_ how long. Seventy-three months. It was my divorce, too, you see.”

For a moment, there is silence on the other end, then –

“She was getting better, Cassian.” He doesn’t sound angry so much as close to tears now. “She was getting her life together. Getting over you.”

“Oh, you believed that, did you?” Cassian mutters, shaking his head. “Bodhi, do you honestly think that two people that hung up on each other for _six years_ just suddenly decide enough is enough? One year, maybe two, you can call that an ugly break-up. Six years, it’s just not meant to be that way.”

“Bodhi,” Kay says suddenly, “hello, by the way –“

“Kay? What are you –“

“We’re testing the hands-free kit,” Kay says offhandedly and Cassian cringes at how much like a married couple they’ve become. “Bodhi, see here. They’re both past the point of nearly getting themselves killed over the whole thing _several_ times. I believe it is time we accepted the more everyone tries to keep these two apart, the worse it is going to be for all involved. Especially us. I don’t know about you, but I could use a break from the drama. It _has_ been six years.”

“She was _getting better,_ ” Bodhi repeats testily, and Kay sighs.

“ _Better,_ yes. But it’s one thing to be better and another to be alright.”

“She would get to be alright too if he didn’t always –“

“Well, on my end, we’ve had a textbook depression, there was definitely a degree of stalking, there was alcoholism, there’s still an excessive caffeine addiction and your good old smoking habit –“

“I’m sitting _right here,_ Kay,” Cassian says and is ignored.

“On your end, I know there was an excess of alcohol, cocaine and God knows what else, as well as quite the penchant for physical damage. You call that _alright?_ ”

“If he’d have the sense to keep out of her life –“

“Bodhi,” Cassian says with a sigh. “If she really wanted to break off contact, why does she still have the same number she had when we met? That’s all it would’ve taken. Getting somebody else as her emergency contact and get a new phone number.”

There is a long silence on the other end as the truth of that sinks in.

“You’re never going to get over each other if you call her and say things like that,” Bodhi mutters.

“I’ve come to the conclusion I’m not going to get over her one way or another. I meant what I said.”

“For God’s sake, Cassian. You’re divorced six years, and it takes one line from you for her to call me yelling and cursing and in tears?”

“I shouldn’t have waited,” he mutters. “I should’ve run after her and never let her leave in the first place, but I – I thought it was me. I thought I wasn’t enough, that she’d be better off without me, that if I loved her at all, I had to let her go.” He takes a deep breath, steadies his voice. “But evidently that’s not the case, so I might as well try. I’d give anything to make this work and you know it.”

“No, I don’t know that,” Bodhi replies very softly. “Because you promised me that once, and look what happened. How do I know it won’t be the same thing all over again?”

“Neither of us could do this again, that’s why.” Cassian sets the turn signal and gets off the highway. “If we’d have known what went wrong, we wouldn’t have let it happen, Bodhi, but, _Jesus,_ we were young, we knew each other nineteen months –”

“And you’ve seen each other for a total of what, a week, since then? Are you trying to tell me you know each other now? Because if you are, get your head out of your arse. All you know now is what you look like when you’re crying.”

Cassian recoils a little from the speaker, taken aback. It is so very much unlike Bodhi to be this blunt that it’s almost funny – he almost sounds like Kay – and all this can mean is that he must have _really_ upset her. And even though that should be good news for him – because upset means caring, and caring means a chance – it stings.

“I’m trying to tell you the same thing I told her, Bodhi,” he says softly. “We’ve changed, and I am not going to move on to anything because I love her and I’ve never stopped and it doesn’t look like I ever will, and if it was up to me, I’d have her come home. The rest is her choice to make.”

There is another long pause, then finally –

“Cassian... if you ever hurt her again, I’m going to hurt _you_ ,” comes the quiet, measured response, and a small smile tugs at Cassian’s lips.

“I know. Bodhi, I... God, I never meant to do her wrong. You have to believe that.”

The bizarre thing is, he thinks, not for the first time – the bizarre thing is, if anyone else had done to her what he did, or even a fraction of that, he thinks he might have killed them.

“I know,” Bodhi mutters. “I just wish that was any kind of guarantee you _will_ never hurt her.”

“Me too,” Cassian answers with a humourless little laugh. “God, yes, I wish it worked like that.”

“And I wish you would’ve called me first. I wish you’d have given some kind of warning, you know? To both of us.”

“Yeah. That’s twice I called you too late. Won’t happen again.”

They reach the parking lot and Cassian fiddles into a parking space with some difficulty.

Finally, Bodhi says with a sigh: “I’m not saying I’m helping your case. I still think it’s too late –“

“You can think whatever you want, and so can Kay, and so can I. It’s her choice, none of ours.”

“Well, again, I’m not saying I’m helping,” Bodhi mutters, “but if she wants to go back I won’t keep her from it.”

Kay snorts. “Like anyone could.”

 _Bodhi could,_ Cassian thinks. He couldn’t, but Bodhi – yes, Bodhi could.

“Oh, and I’m sending you both invites for my graduation. It’d be nice if you could be there.”

“We will be,” Cassian replies solemnly and ignores his friend’s dark look for making promises on his behalf. “Of course we’ll be there, Bodhi.”

“Yes, well,” he hesitates for a moment, then adds: “So will she, so... well, just think on something halfway good to say to her, okay?”

“Well, given past evidence, that might be a problem,” Kay says drily and Cassian rolls his eyes.

“I’ll try. And – Bodhi?”

“Yeah?”

“I mean this. I swear it, on my whole family’s grave, I mean this and I’ll give whatever the hell I have to give and I hope to God it’s enough.”

“Yeah. I hope that, too,” Bodhi mutters, and hangs up before either one of them can say another word.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics in-between as well as the title taken from "Landing in London" by 3Doors Down (listen to it!)


End file.
